


The Making of John Watson

by MissWitchy



Series: Little Fallen Angel [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blood and Gore, Collars, Emotional Manipulation, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, John is under the legal age of 16 folks, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Smut, Torture, Triggers, Underage Sex, Violence, and a bunch of other tags that I cant think of right now! :), light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 16,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissWitchy/pseuds/MissWitchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has evolved into something and someone he never imagined. Can his relationship with Jim be fixed or will it wither?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John is 14 yrs old so this whole story could be triggering. Read at your own risk.

Day after day John looked for the return of Jim and day after day, he was left alone. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of Jim never coming back. Jim loved him and owned him, he had said so; he wouldn’t just abandon him. Would he? It had been nearly a week since Jim had left and still John hadn’t heard anything from him.

John curled up even tighter in his spot on the couch. The TV was just background noise at this point, he had quit paying attention to it hours ago. His head shot up from where he had been resting it on his knees, eyes locking on the front door. Was that a car door? John’s heart began to beat faster; maybe Jim was back. Jumping off the couch he headed for the door. Just before he reached it, the door opened. John stopped short, the smile fading from his face. It was just Sebastian. As nice as it would be to have someone else to talk to, he wasn’t Jim.

“Hey Kid. How’s it going?” Sebastian asked, closing the door behind him.

John walked back to the couch and dropped on to it, shoulders slumped. John just shrugged his shoulders at the older man’s question. He had his head bowed, trying hard not to let Seb see the struggle he was having not to cry. He wasn’t going to cry, not anymore. He had cried enough in his young life to last the rest of it. Taking deep breaths, he tried to steady himself.

Sebastian seemed oblivious to John predicament, or if he did notice, he made no mention of it. John heard the big man move to the kitchen. Probably going to make tea, predictable, John thought bitterly.

“So have the tutors been here for your lessons?” Seb asked from the kitchen. He was indeed making tea or at least attempting to.

“I don’t give a shit about the fucking tutors! I. WANT. JIM! Where the fuck is he?” John shouted jumping off the couch. His hands were clenched in fists at his sides, chest heaving.

Sebastian’s only reaction to the outburst was a cocked eyebrow. “He’s busy,” the tall blond mumbled under his breath.

The flood of pent up frustration and anger drained for John instantly. “Too busy for me apparently,” he said to himself in a whisper. He hung his head and sat back on the couch. He figured he should apologize to Sebastian for yelling at him, but he just didn’t fucking care. Caring about someone seemed to be pointless in the end, it made you weak and soft, and it made the hurt of rejection even more painful. Caring is not an advantage.

“Hey kid, you want to go to the range and get some practice in?” Seb asked in a soft voice, seemingly aware of the turmoil going on in John. He had abandoned his attempt to make tea and was now just leaning on the bar, arms folded across his chest.

“Yeah, sure. Nothing else to fucking do around this place,” John grumbled with a sigh, pulling himself off the couch. He followed Seb out the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

John found that going to the range was actually a great idea. He could take out his anger on the paper targets that hung at the other end of the warehouse, imagining they were any number of people he hated at the moment. He fired round after round, clip after clip until he was entirely spent. John turned to the table that held their equipment and calmly placed the Glock 17 pistol he always used down and stepped back. He looked at Seb with hard eyes, “Got anything bigger than a hand gun?”

Seb grinned a toothy grin. “Think you’re ready for a rifle squirt?” he teased, narrowing his eyes.

“Bring it,” John growled, challenging. He was fed up with being treated like a kid, like he couldn’t handle things. He had survived abandonment, death, brutal rape and his heart getting shattered more times then he cared to count. He needed control, control of his emotions, his life and what happened therein. Pulling himself up to full height, squaring his shoulders, setting his jaw, he stared Seb down. No one would ever see him as weak.

With a smirk, Seb turned away and went to retrieve his rifle. Laying the case in front of John, he proceeded to show him to assemble the firearm.

An hour later, John had learned how to shoot the rifle lying down as well as standing. It was a heavy piece of equipment and in the end his shoulders, arms and back ached, but he didn’t care. He felt powerful and pleased. He wouldn’t need to depend on anyone soon, not even Jim.

Once he got back home, he headed to the shower. The hot spray seemed to pull the ache and tension out of his body. It felt wonderful, but it was quickly making him tired. After stepping out and drying off, John made his way to his bedroom, pausing briefly outside of Jim’s bedroom. Images of his collaring and the first and only time they made love floated through his head, leaving a sense of emptiness and longing in their wake. He crammed the whole mess down and locked them in a box in a dark corner of his mind. Those kinds of feelings weren’t going to be any help to him. He was going to lock it all way, and learn to survive on his own.

Pulling back the duvet, John slid into the bed with a heavy sigh. It was going to be hard but he knew that if he wanted to survive anything, he would have to go it alone. Alone is what protected him.

Wrapping himself in the covers, he sank into the pillows and allowed sleep to take him. What he wasn’t aware of at the time was that as he wrapped himself in the warmth of the covers his heart was also being wrapped up. Wrapped in a blanket of ice, more solid than steel.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next month, Sebastian visited John every few days. John appreciated the company and actually looked forward to it. It meant that he could practice shooting and fighting. He had even gone on a couple of day hikes with Seb just to build up his endurance and stamina. The older man had even gifted him a weight set. Seb helped him set it up in his room. So everyday, John lifted weights and exercised for about an hour, more if he was having a rough day.

His heart still ached with the memory of all of Jim’s touches and caresses, but John learned to keep it all inside. He even welcomed his lessons with the tutors. He had no plans of being just another stupid, uneducated grunt. He still wanted to be a doctor after all, so when he wasn’t occupied with his fitness and killing prowess, he was diving head first into his studies.

Sebastian walked in the front door, not even taking the time to knock. Walking over to the couch, he flopped down and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

“Can’t you fucking knock every once in a while,” John spat, glaring at the man. “You don’t fucking live here.” He turned his head back to the homework that lay in his lap. That’s when he noticed the man’s feet on the table. That was it, enough of this shit, he thought.

Laying his papers aside, John stood and walked over to Seb. Looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a frown, he waited for the older man to say something. All he got was a sarcastic grin. In a flash of movement, John grabbed Seb’s shirtfront and propelled him off the couch and toward the door.

Sebastian’s shocked look turned to a viscous sneer. Reaching up, he shoved hard at John’s chest sending him reeling backward. He braced himself for the fight that was clearly coming. The look in John’s eyes made it clear that this was only going to get worse.

John took a steady stance; legs braced and shoulder width apart. He dropped his body just slightly, giving he a low center of gravity. He had the advantage on the other man because he was small and quick. John’s breathing evened out, his vision and hearing sharpened and that all too familiar blanket of calm enveloped him. He was relaxed and poised to kill. His opponent may be Seb but if he had to, he would have no problem dispatching the man. _Easy._

Sebastian lunged first, swinging a heavy left hook at John’s face. John leaned back, avoiding the blow without difficulty. Seb swung again, aiming for John’s stomach. John shifted daftly on his feet, bringing himself to the side of Seb’s hulking frame and planted a well-placed punch to the other man’s kidney. Seb fell to his knees with a groan. Taking advantage of the downed man, John stepped in front of him quickly and with swift knee to the face, brought the big man completely to the floor.

John looked down at the bleeding man on the floor with a little cock to his head. With eyes narrowed, John stepped forward and delivered a brutal kick to the others rib cage. The audible crack of ribs breaking brought a wicked little smirk to John’s face.

Seb looked up and saw his death in John’s eyes. With a swift kick to the head, John rendered the man unconscious.

“Well, well, well. You _have_ grown, Johnny boy,” came a singsong voice from the front door, “taking out my best man. What ever will I do? I guess it’s time to get a new one, eh?”

John spun around, eyes wide. It was Jim. He didn’t think he would ever see the man again. That little room he had labeled with Jim’s name for all things Jim in his heart and mind, unlocked, but the door didn’t open, that might take some time, if it opened at all. Schooling his face, John stared at Jim with calm indifference.

“Well, we better get him some help,” Jim said conversationally, sending off a text.

John assumed it was for someone to come pick Seb up, he didn’t think Jim would actually send for an ambulance. Turning away for Jim, John went to his room. He needed to think and he couldn’t do that with Jim looking at him. Why was he even here? He’d been gone for over a month so why now? John shut his bedroom door before collapsing in the chair next to his bed. He rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing a hand over his face. He felt tired, wrung out and most of all angry. He knew he still had feelings for Jim, but he wasn’t sure what there was between them anymore. Jim had left him without so much as a goodbye, so why did he care so much that Jim was back. John resolved that he wasn’t going to show Jim just how much his absence hurt.

Steeling himself, he left his room, making his way back to the living room. He wasn’t happy about what he was about to do, but he had to teach Jim just what it was like to be betrayed.

The living room was cleared of the blooded body. Jim stood at the bar working on something on his phone. He looked up when he heard John approach. The smile John received was like a ray of beautiful sunlight, and it cut him to the quick. With a cold distant look, John unbuckled his collar and dropped on the counter in front of Jim. He refused to make eye contact with Jim as he moved to the front door and took his coat from the rack. Without a backward look, John walked out. What he didn’t see was the smirk on Jim’s face and how it turned into a rather evil grin.

~~~~~~~

John returned home a few hours later, exhausted and cold. He had went for a walk before deciding that going out back of the property and shooting was a better outlet for his boiling anger and hurt. He was right, it did help, but now he was frozen. He glanced at Jim as he hung his coat back on the rack. Jim was sitting in his chair by a blazing fire reading some sort of file.

John sank into his chair across from Jim and stared into the flames. The silence stretched out for what seemed like a small eternity. Something had to give. John took a deep breath, preparing to stand and go to bed. Jim finally broke the quiet.

“I missed you,” Jim said in a soft voice.

John scoffed and shook his head. “Yeah, sure you did. You missed me so much that you just ignored me completely for a month. Yeah I can really see you did.” He didn’t care if it was harsh. He was fed up with what ever sick game Jim was playing with him.

Jim looked up at him with a severe glare. “When I tell you something, you do not question me. Is. That. Clear.” His look softened and he shifted his gaze to the fire. John made no motion to indicate that Jim’s threat had in anyway been heard. “I did it for your own good,” he continued. John just sat back and waited, he didn’t want to hear what the man had to say but for some reason he knew it was imperative that he did. Part of him just wanted to throw himself at Jim, hold him, and tell him everything was ok, but no. Caring wasn’t an advantage. _But maybe he’s your exception._

“And?” John prompted when the pause went on for too long. Jim looked up at him briefly before returning to look into the fire. John noticed he was stroking the leather collar with his thumb; it seemed to be almost a comforting gesture done completely absent-mindedly.

“I saw potential in you, to be more than what you were. I had to push you, brake you make you see that you had, er… have control. I had to make you push through your fear, dependency and self-loathing. You are capable of anything. I want someone that I can depend on to not let sentiment and insecurities get in the way of what needs to be done. No matter the consequences. I want you, as a partner, that’s why I did this. I didn’t want for you to become a liability, so I tested you and you pulled through it,” Jim turned his eyes to the boy “You are my perfect partner, truly my other half”. John saw that Jim was looking for some sort of reassurance that John understood. He did, and he knew the man just wanted to make him a better man. A better partner. However, John wasn’t ready to give him that.

 “I’m not sorry I did it,” Jim continued, not taking his eyes off John, “you have reached your potential and yet there is still so much more for you.”

John never let his face or eyes betray the turmoil that raged inside of him. He wanted to be anger, livid even, with Jim, but at the same time, he was over joyed to have him back. John pulled himself out of the chair and headed for the hallway.

“I was watching you the whole time,” John heard Jim say. It made him pause. So Jim had watched him wither and mope for him, and then blossom. John wasn’t sure what he was supposed to feel about that. “Seb reported your progress, that’s why he was here so often. I do care about you, despite what you might think,” Jim continued. John glanced back and saw that the man had returned to staring at the crackling flames. With a nod that he doubted Jim noticed, John made his way to his room. He desperately needed to sleep and clear his head. Maybe tomorrow would bring him needed answers.


	3. Chapter 3

John woke slowly. The morning sun seeped through the curtains and blanketed him in warm light. After rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, John just lay there and stared at the ceiling. What was he going to do about Jim? He knew that Jim had had his best interests at heart, but that still hadn’t kept it from hurting. Jim had saved him from certain death in that cold warehouse months again and if he was honest, he had saved him again now, saved him from a powerless existence. Because of the pain and hurt, Jim had given him focus and purpose, driving him forward to discover his true potential and power. John signed, yet again no matter how much he wanted to rage and hate Jim, he owed the man more then ever before. He was going to figure out how to make them better again, though he knew it wouldn’t be as easy as it had been before. Nevertheless, Jim was worth it, and John loved him dearly.

Climbing out of bed, John dressed in his only jumper and a pair of jeans. On his way down the hall, John glanced in Jim’s room, not seeing him there; John figured he was probably in his office. _Or gone again_.

John found Jim sitting at the dining table going over some paperwork.  Sitting in a chair across from him, John waited until Jim acknowledged him. He didn’t want to interrupt but he certainly wasn’t going away or waiting until later. What he wanted to talk to Jim about was too important.

Jim looked up at the boy after a few minutes. “What is it Johnny? You look like you have something you want to say,” Jim’s face was open and sincere.

John paused for a moment collecting his thoughts. “Yeah, there are several things I want to say. First, I want you to know that I understand what you did and why, and believe it or not, I am thankful for it. Once again, you looked out for me. That being said, if you are still interested in us being, well, US then I have a few conditions,” John paused again, this time waiting to see what Jim had to say in reply.

“And those would be what?” Jim asked, searching John’s face for clues.

“First and foremost, don’t you EVER do something like that again. You leave with no explanation and no communication, it. Is. Over. I will walk out that door for good and never come back. Second, if you really care about me and dare I say it, love me, you will treat me with respect. I will of course do likewise. Third and most important, you are open and honest with me in ever way, shape, or form. No more keeping me in the dark and no more shielding me from the kind of work you…WE do.”

Jim leaned back in his chair and just stared. Where had his baby gone? His little boy was all grown up, well mostly. He couldn’t keep the smile off his face. His boy was perfect. Pulling the brown leather collar out of his suit pocket, Jim laid it on the table between the two of them. “We’ll try it your way,” Jim said; smile still intact, “for now.” Of course John’s “conditions” were more then satisfactory, most of them he had planned to put into action anyway, but he still needed to show the boy that _he_ was the one that still called the shots. “What are we to do about that,” Jim asked gesturing to the collar. “Do I still own you, Johnny boy?” he continued leaning forward, eyes growing dark and intense, “are you still mine?”

John swallowed hard and said nothing, his face not giving anything away. Of course Jim still owned him, and he certainly couldn’t think of being anyone else’s’, but… “That remains to be seen,” he replied after a long minute. When he gave himself to Jim, it would be on his terms and after the man had proved he was at least trying to comply with John’s conditions. John picked up the collar and put it in his pants pocket.

Jim gave a nod and looked back at the papers that lay out in front of him. “So, since I will be including you in what goes on with The Work, I have some important things to fill you in on,” he told the boy, stacking the papers neatly. “Ok, first we will be moving into the city, I have some photos here of the flats that are available and I want you to pick the one you like most. The reason for the move will be explained later. I have set up a meeting with Sherlock Holmes; it will take place in the near future. I am helping him plan a “party” of sorts, it’s the exact same as the one you were involved in,” Jim explained in a very business-like manner.

John gasped, eyes wide with shock. Jim was going to meet with the monster that tore his innocence from him. Was Jim part of it? John felt his muscles tighten, blood boiling. He should have known, of course Jim would have his grubby hands involved. Seething, John just stared at Jim, face schooled again to blankness.

“I have arranged the venue which will be one of my more remote warehouses as well as the entertainment for the evening. That’s where you come in, my dear. Think of it as a gift; a show of my affection if you will,” Jim continued, ignoring John’s indignation. He will figure it all out shortly.

John leapt to his feet, fists slamming the table. “Oh some show of affection. Handing me over to that, that…” he couldn’t even come up with an accurate word for that man.

“SIT. DOWN.” Jim shouted, but showed no other signs of anger, “and of course I’m not letting him near you, what do you take me for? I am let _you_ near him.”

At the sudden shout from Jim, John dropped back into his chair. Anger just barely contained under the surface. Finally, Jim’s words sank in. OH, he was giving the man to John as a gift. Of course, now it all made sense. How could he have even thought that Jim would be involved? “Oh, well thank you,” he said, hanging his head embarrassed.

“You’re very welcome love,” Jim said fondly. “That is why I am “helping” him, I needed an excuse to get close to him and to get him alone. That takes us back to the topic of moving into the city. I will be having several meetings with him between now and when the party is set to happen. Its just more efficient if we are closer.”

“Ok, cool. Um, what do I do when I meet him?” John inquired, curious.

“Any thing you want,” Jim drew out, making a point to finish the statement with his evilest of grins.


	4. Chapter 4

John’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. His grin matched Jim’s. He really was going to have to think about this long and hard. Well, not too long. There was just so many things he wanted to do to the sick fucker. He jumped up from his chair again, but this time rushed around the table to Jim. Straddling the man’s lap, John leaned his small muscular body against Jim’s, arms around his neck and planted the slightest of kisses on his lips. “Oh, daddy. You’re the best,” he purred, placing another kiss just below Jim’s ear.

Jim growled, his cock springing to life. It had been so long since he had felt the tight heat of his baby, and he needed him desperately. Running his hands round the boy’s waist, he lowered them to squeeze the taunt spheres of John’s ass. “Can I have you baby,” he signed, almost a moan, “Please tell me I can.”

“ Fuck me now daddy,” John whispered, nibbling on the shell of Jim’s ear.

Jim grabbed the boy’s thighs and stood in one motion, leaving John to wrap his legs around Jim’s waist. Clearing the table with a quick sweep of one arm, Jim sat the boy on the edge of the table and went to work removing his jumper. Once the offending item was disposed of, Jim leaned back from the assault of kisses the boy was laying on him to admire the muscle structure that had developed on John’s body. He couldn’t keep himself from running his hands everywhere, memorizing everything new. John grunted to get Jim’s attention back to where it should be. Jim immediately attacked the boy’s mouth with renewed ferocity. It really had been too long.

Pushing John flat on the table, Jim worked at his fly.

John had no idea where the sudden urge to be fucked came from, but he was certainly not going to complain. It felt wonderful to have Jim’s hands on him again. He really had missed it. He groaned as the air hit his pulsing cock. He was practically writhing with want. Nothing the other man did seemed to be quick enough. He wanted Jim’s cock shoved in him fast and hard. He welcomed the pain that came with minimal preparation. He needed it, the pain, but also the pleasure. The pleasure he knew only Jim could and would bring him. The anticipation was murder.

Jim sucked his middle finger for several seconds, wetting the digit as much as possible. When he deemed it wet enough, he reached between the boy’s cheeks, circling the tight pucker. Without warning, he thrust it in, all the way to the last knuckle.

 John cried out at the rough intrusion. He felt Jim pump his finger in and out several times before adding another. The burn of the stretch was overwhelming. He couldn’t stop himself from whimper as Jim continued to revenge his hole. With a tweak of the fingers, John felt them brush against the small bundle of nervous that promptly lit his body on fire. Nerve endings lit up all along his spine, making him arch into the touch and moan wantonly. Jim’s fingers scissored him wider, forcing his body to open for the mass that was coming. With one final stretch, the fingers were gone, replaced with something much larger. Jim’s cock slid slowly past the tight ring of muscles, pausing for a moment to let John adjust. The wait only lasted a minute before Jim was slamming forward, buried balls deep in one go. John screamed with pain and pleasure. When he felt Jim pause again, he took the opportunity to catch his breath. “Move,” he panted, eyes shut tight, “move now!”

Jim pulled back then plowed forward again, sending a shiver through John’s body. John loved the feeling of Jim’s cock grazing over his prostate. It hurt so good. Jim gave him several more brutal thrusts, cause John to see stars. Whoreish moans escaped his throat, but he was beyond caring. He clawed at Jim’s back, trying fervently to ground himself. He heard primal growls every time his nails dug deep in Jim’s skin. He seemed to relish the pain.  

Opening his eyes, John saw the most beautiful man leaning over him as he fucked him into the table. Sweat was beaded on Jim’s face, making John want to lick it off. The man’s eyes were blown wide, power and dominance oozing from every pore. Jim released one of his hips and wrapped the hand round John’s straining prick. Pulses of pure ecstasy flooded through him at each tug.

“Cum for me, baby,” Jim growled low and deep. Vibrating John’s very core. And that is all it took. Hot spurts of seed shot across John’s chest, some even landing on his chin. He was still twitching from the after shocks, when he felt Jim give a couple more pushes and spill hot cum inside him. He felt owned again in that moment. Marked.

Jim pulled out slowly, not wanting to cause any more tenderness than was already there. “Lay still, I’ll get a flannel,” said Jim lovingly.

John did as he was told. While he lay there, cum drying on his skin, he considered all the possibilities there where for when he would meet _that_ man. So many ideas ran through his head. He hoped that Jim approved of them and was proud that he was willing to do these things.

He wondered if he would freeze up when it actually came to the act or acts. No, no he absolutely refused to fail. Jim had confidence in him and his abilities, and so did he. He would own Sherlock Holmes when he was done.

Jim returned shortly with a warm, wet cloth. He wiped John’s chest until it was clear of bodily fluids. He helped him off the table and back into his clothes. Jim pulled him close; looking into John’s eyes, he kissed him softly. “I really have missed you, all of you,” he said in a low voice, his face a patchwork of emotions.

John returned the kiss enthusiastically, but looked away at Jim’s declaration. He felt shame. Shame at himself for ever being angry with the man. Shame for all the doubt he had felt. Looking up, John saw a touch of hurt in Jim’s eyes before it flitted away.  He found himself raising his hand and resting it Jim’s cheek, thumb gently stroking. “I missed you too, it hurt so bad when you didn’t come back.” John told him, a small frown creasing his forehead. “So you really want me to pick out our new place?” he asked with a forced smile, hoping to successfully change the subject.

Jim chuckled, leaning into John’s touch. He knew it would take some time and that he needed to be patient. John needed encouragement, if he was to continue to develop. Therefore, Jim resolved to give it to him. “Yes, of course I want you to pick,” he said with another chuckle, “ I want this to be _ou_ r home, not just mine.”

John couldn’t help but give a genuine smile at this wonderful man. Letting go of Jim, John went over to collect the fallen paper work. He moved back to his former chair and fanned the photos out, taking in each detail, making a mental note of all the things he liked and didn’t like. After about twenty minutes, he picked a flat at Kensington Palace Gardens. It had five bedrooms as well as a pool and gym. It would be perfect for his workouts. When the saw the price tag of this magnificent home, he froze.

Jim saw the freeze and deduced it had something to do with the price. With a smile he asked, “Is there something wrong? Did you find something you liked?”

John stammered, trying to find words that could communicate his shock. “Yeah, yeah I found something,” he finely managed to get out, “but its fucking thirty million pounds!”

Jim laughed heartily at the boy’s gaping mouth and ashen face. “Love, money is no issue. That’s mere pocket money,” he know it wasn’t EXACTLY pocket money, but it certainly wouldn’t make much of a dent in his bank account. He was also sure he could get it for less if he used one of his connections, which he likely would.

John was still floored, maybe even more so now thanks to Jim’s statement. God, he could really go for some tea. He continued to look at the pictures; it really was a gorgeous place and since Jim wasn’t fazed by the price, he let himself get excited about the different aspects of the place. He would need to ask Jim if maybe he could decorate his room. He would be able to go on runs and walks through the park that was practically outside his front door.

Jim watched with a fond smile, as the boy got lost in his head, likely going over ideas and such for the new place. He liked seeing John happy. With a slight shake of his head, Jim went to the kitchen to put the kettle on, John would enjoy a cup of tea and so would he. It was going to be a long day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I actually found this property for the amount in the story. From what I could find, the price equals 50.84 Million dollars US.
> 
> http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/newsbysector/constructionandproperty/9666745/Londons-most-expensive-properties-in-pictures.html?frame=2393681


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your kudos and hits, they keep me going. I really appreciate everyones continuing support for my stories! It means a lot to me!
> 
> xoxo

The flat was indeed magnificent. The stone fireplace gracing the first floor was flanked by two chairs, much as it had been at the country house. Jim’s chair was a tall wing back chair upholstered in supple dark brown leather that seemed to have varying spots of deep red through out. It said power in one look. John’s was a chocolate Kubus style arm chair. The surface of his chair resembled little pillows, each sown to appear like individual cushioned cubes.  

A huge area rug lay out in front of the fireplace, it covered most of the area designated for the living room. A large silver-grey section couch set to far edge of the rug cordoning off that space from all the others; a heavy square coffee table nestled in the center of the space. It was an open floor plan so each are was separated by some form of furniture. The dining table was situated to the right of the living room, surrounded by twelve high backed chairs. They almost matched the grey of the couch. Just beyond that, there sat a grand piano on a rug of its own. Art hung sparingly on the walls, windows filling in the spaces. The kitchen was to the left of the fireplace; it was separated from the living room by a grand staircase leading to the second floor bedrooms. The floors were covered upstairs and down by stone tiles, broken up occasionally by a lush rug. Even with the dark, rich colors of the rugs, chairs and art, the place was surprisingly bright.

John stood in the entryway with his jaw hanging open. He wasn’t sure if he should even breathe, lest he break something. It had been a week since he had picked this place from the options Jim had given him. The only thing they had had to pack from the other place was their wardrobes, his weight set and some files from Jim’s office.

Jim chuckled at the boy’s shock. “Well, come on. Quit standing in the way. Go on up to your room and unpack you suitcase and come back down. We’ll have some tea,” Jim shoved lightly at John to get him moving. He knew the boy would get use to it all, but it may take longer then usual.

John found his room at the top of the stairs. His weights were already there as were all the pieces of furniture Jim had insisted he pick out. The bed was a double, covered in dark blue covers and matching sheets. An oak armoire set in one corner of the room. He made his way over to it and started the process of hanging and sorting his clothes into the correct spaces. After finishing with that, John explored the rest of his room. There was a large maple desk set under the window that faced out over the park. Seeing a door across from the foot of his tall bed, he decided to see where it led. Opening the door slowly, John peeked inside. He had his own bathroom! The first and only thing he seemed to noticed was the fact that the tub and the shower were separate. The shower was tiled in dark slate completely enclosed in clear glass, while the tub was cavernous with jets set into the sides of it.

Moving back out to his room, John sat down on his bed. He needed a moment to process it all.  He just couldn’t believe he was actually living some place that was fit to house royalty. There was probably a few living just down the street. After a few minutes, John made his way down to the kitchen; it was likely to be just as overwhelming as everything else had been.

Jim offered up a mug of tea the moment the boy came into the room. He smiled to himself at the look of shell shock that still covered John’s face. “I know we just got here, but I have a couple of meetings I need to go to,” he said, taking a sip of his tea. “Would you be a dear and take these file to the office for me, it’s the third door on the left,” indicating a stack of manila folders on the counter, “oh and the key code is 7193.”

“Sure,” John replied with a smile, “how long will you be gone?”

“I’m not sure, but I’ll text you and let you know,” Jim said, tossing a new iPhone at the boy.

John’s eyes lit up, this was his first piece of real technology. He turned the shiny phone over in his hands, smiling at his reflection in the case.

“ I am assuming you know how to text.” Jim asked, just wanting to make sure before he left.

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen Seb and you do it and there were some kids on the street that showed me,” John said, eyes not leaving the phone. He touched the screen, waking the phone up. His smile broadened; oh, this was going to be fun to figure out.

Jim laughed and went to get his coat. “Bye baby, I’ll be back later.”

“Bye, be careful,” John replied, looking up and smiling sweetly at Jim. He watched as Jim shut the door and locked it from the outside, setting the alarm after he did. Jim had made John memorize the security codes before they even left the house to come here. John put his phone back to sleep for a few minutes so he could get the files upstairs.

Just as he reached the landing, a couple of the folders slipped out of the stack and scattered across the floor. John signed and knelt, shuffling the papers back into their respective file. Picking up one paper, John noticed the name Sherlock Holmes. He knew he probably shouldn’t be looking, but his curiosity was piqued. Flipping through the papers, he found the man’s address, occupation, mention of a sibling and other facts. Well, that was interesting, maybe he would just have to go have a look see for himself. Couldn’t hurt to get some Intel before the big day. John smiled at the thought of how well Sebastian was training him. He took the files to Jim’s office, wrote down the relevant information and headed out the door. Now he just needed to try to catch a taxi.

Once he was on the curb, he found that it wasn’t too difficult. “221 B Baker Street,” he told the cabby; sitting back he decided to send Jim his first text message letting him know he had gone out.

**Went out, not sure when I’ll be back – JW**

**Ok, did you set the alarm? –JM**

**Yes –JW**

**Do you have enough pocket money? –JM**

**Yeah, and I have the card you gave me just in case –JW**

**Good, have fun. Headed into the meeting –JM**

John smiled to himself, he was quite proud that he had the hang of texting so fast.

As for having fun, he certainly was going to try. “I need to stop off at 8 Chiltern Street before we go on to Baker Street,” John instructed the driver.

“Sure thing kid, you’ll be wanting me to wait for you then,” the cabbie asked, needing  confirmation.

“Yeah, I wont be too long. I already know what I need,” he answered back. He _did_ know what he needed. He needed to not look like a rich kid. So, he decided to get a button down shirt that he would wear under a jumper, along with a pair of casual jeans. He didn’t want to look homeless just sort of middle class. At least he hoped he could pull that off.


	6. Chapter 6

Pulling up at Trunk ©, John jumped out before the cab came to a complete stop. Inside, he asked one of the shop assistants to direct him to the correct areas. He chose a white button down shirt, light washed jeans, beige cashmere pullover sweater and a pair of blue runners.

“Can I change into these here?” he asked the assistant as he swiped his card.

“Of course,” she replied smiling. “Right through there,” she pointed to a dressing room tucked away in one corner.

“Ta,” he called back over his shoulder. Once dressed in his new clothes, John folded his old clothes and put them in the shop bag. He gave a quick wave to the shop girls as he left the shop, jumping back into the waiting cab. “Ok, off to Baker Street,” John told the cabbie leaning back into the seat, “and thanks for waiting, I appreciate it.”

“Hey no problem kid, its on your dime,” the man said with a warm smile.

John had the cabbie drop him a block away from 221 B. He would walk the rest of the way. After paying the cabbie, he walked in the direction of the flat. He slipped into an alley that allowed him a clear view of the front door. John wasn’t sure what he was waiting for but he was sure he would know when he saw it.

He waited several hours and there had been no sign of the man. Just as he was about to head home, he spotted the sweeping figure leaving the flat. John just hoped he didn’t catch a cab, if he did then he would have no way of following. Luck was with him; the man strolled down the street in the opposite direction. John slunk out of his hiding spot and followed several meters back, he didn’t want to tip the man off. Blood pounded in his ears as the adrenalin increased. Block after block he followed, after awhile he wasn’t totally sure he knew where he was.

Suddenly the man turned sharply down an alley, John almost missed it. Coming to a stop, he paused and just looked down rubbish filled corridor. It looked like his query had also been fallowing someone, likely why John had gone unnoticed. The older man had a rather dangerous looking fellow cornered at the end of the dead-end alley. John crept closer, making sure to stay in the shadows. He saw the flint of the knife just before he heard Sherlock cry out in surprise. Dropping his bag, he pulled the Glock from the back of his jeans. He was glad Seb had agreed to let him start carrying it. He had been so unsure about why he was following this man, but in this moment, he knew why. He wanted to get close to him, exploit his weaknesses. Even if the man was a genius, everyone had weaknesses.

If he shot the knife wielding man, there wouldn’t be as good a chance at getting close. Putting the gun back into his waistband, he moved closer to the struggling men. When he was nearly on them, he gave a cry of something like “Hey!” It was enough of a distraction for John to get in a solid blow with his fist. The man with the knife staggered back, before lunging at him with tremendous speed. John sidestepped the attack, but unfortunately not the knife. It sliced through his sleeve, leaving a bloody cut on his bicep. Inhaling through his teeth to calm the surge of pain, he reached around with his good hand, pulled out his gun and shot the man between the eyes. He didn’t even flinch as the gun went off or as the man fell lifeless. _Stupid fucker_. He felt blood start to trickle down his arm and off his fingers.

Sherlock had stood off the side watching him the entire time, a look of surprise and appreciation filled his face. John knew his shooting was damn good, but he really hadn’t expected Sherlock to be so impressed. “Sorry,” he said with a small smile, gesturing to his gun, “are you alright?”

“Am _I_ alright,” Sherlock said aghast? Running a hand over his face, he stepped closer to John.

John waited with an expectant look on his face. “Yes of course, I am,” the older man replied.

John smiled. “Good, now I think I better go and get this looked at,” he said, squeezing his good hand over his right arm, putting pressure on the wound.

“Oh, yes, of course. A&E?” the man asked him, looking a little nervous.

“No, I’m underage and they’ll want to contact my parents and I don’t want to have to listen to mum and dad’s questions,” John told him, purposefully letting slip that he was underage and not on good terms with his imaginary parents.

“Well, at least come back to my place and let me stitch you up,” Sherlock said eagerly, “it’s the least I can do for you helping me out.”

John signed dramatically, looking at his shoes. “That would be great, thanks. It beats having to go home,” he said in a small voice, “not like they even notice if I’m there or not.” He knew he had to be careful and not over play it. He already had the man eating out of his hand. The man was practically drooling, eyes roaming over his body with growing interest. As much as John just wanted to shoot the fucker in the head and leave him to rot, he knew Jim wouldn’t like it. Plus there were worse things he could do to the man when the time came.

He followed Sherlock out to the curb, where the man seemed to pull a cab right out of thin air. John slid into the seat next to Sherlock, making a point not to get blood on the man's Belstaff. He sat is relative silence as they made their way back to Baker Street.

When they arrived, Sherlock ushered John up the stairs. In front of him stood a door that read 221 B. So, this was his flat. _Into the lions den_. Sherlock reached past him and unlocked the door, making sure to lean in a little closer than was necessary. John suppressed a shiver of disgust. Stepping in the door, he was met with what could only be described as a disaster. There were books, papers and old mugs of tea everywhere. Sherlock breezed by him, catching his hand as he moved down a small hall way just past the kitchen.

John was herded into a small bathroom and told to sit on the closed toilet. “Take you shirt off so I can get to the wound,” Sherlock instructed, rummaging under the sink for the first aid kit. John took off his now blood soaked jumper, though it took some work because of his arm. Next came the button down. Hesitating for moment, John decided he would push Sherlock a little. “Could you help me unbutton this? It’s a bit awkward with not being able to really move my arm.”

Sherlock looked like he was a kid in a candy store. Slowly, almost tenderly, he unbutton the top button, making sure his fingers touched John’s vest covered chest. This continued until the entire shirt was undone. John slid it off with a bit too much help from the older man.

Sherlock looked over his muscled torso with blatant appreciation. It made John sick to his stomach. That aside, he was quite pleased with himself for remaining calm and calculating. Here was a prime example of the effect of what Jim had done for him. Sherlock made quick work of the stitches. After the antiseptic was dabbed on followed by the bandage, John stood, preparing to leave.

“Here is my card should you ever need to reach me, for any reason. I do prefer to text though,” the man informed him seemingly nervous. John took the card with a feigned coy smile. “ Thank you for taking care of me, Mr. Holmes.”

With a little wave and smile from the top of the landing, John made for the street. Once he was in the cab heading for home, he let the smile slip off his face. He had lost a fair amount of blood and his arm throbbed, on top of the strain of holding up his façade; he just wanted to try to forget that bastard and rest. John knew he would likely have to answer for the state that was in but he didn’t care, it would be worth it if he could just pin down the plan that was rolling around in his head. He hadn’t even realized he had closed his eyes until he heard the cabbie announce their arrival at his destination. _Please Jim, don’t be mad at me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trunk © is an actual mens clothing store in London. it really is conveniently located between Kensington Palace Gardens and 221 B Baker Street. the address I used for the shop is their real one, and all of John's clothes are taken from their lovely selections. 
> 
> no copyright infringements intended. and I don't own shit lol! just thought i'd put that out there lol
> 
> Enjoy! :)


	7. Chapter 7

John woke every morning wondering if this was the day that Jim was going to say something about the state that he had returned home in days ago, but every night he crawled into bed and found himself even more confused. Jim had been home when the cab dropped him off. The man hadn’t so much as raised an eyebrow at him. He had acted as if this was a normal occurrence. John laid in the dark of his room on more then one occasion, stared at the ceiling and worried what was up with Jim.

Even with worrying about Jim’s reaction, or lack there of, to his little scheme, John continued to travel the ten minutes it took by cab to get to 221 B Baker Street. Sherlock had started to ask him to go with him on a couple of small cases and had even introduced him as his friend on several occasions. However, when they were behind lock doors in the man’s flat, Sherlock worked desperately to make John more then just his friend.

They sat at Angelo’s one night, several weeks after the alley incident. Sherlock had made sure to sit next to John instead of across from him. John had become very good at controlling his body language as well as his reactions to certain physical intrusions. He smiled delicately up at Sherlock through his long blond lashes. He knew exactly what kind of affect this was having on the man. Between one bat of his lashes and the next, the man had his face nearly buried in John’s neck. He could feel the other’s breath huffing in small pants against his ear.

“John, have I told you how beautiful you are?” Sherlock asked in a whispered rumble. John couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down his spine, but of course, the idiot thought it was caused by want.

“N-no, I don’t think you have, Mr. Holmes,” John whispered back, eyes straight ahead, feigning a look of surprise. He had learned rather early on in their acquaintance, that calling Sherlock Mr. Holmes at just the right moment, tended to drive the man out of his mind with desire. John found that he loved dragging this man along, promising the chance of so much and never following through. He knew that it was a matter of time before Sherlock caught on, but he would deal with that when the time came.

“ I’ve wanted you face down on my bed with my cock buried in your little ass since I saw you shoot that man in the alley,” Sherlock purred, rubbing his cheek against John’s. His hand had wandered under the table and was slithering up John’s thigh toward his cock. “You’re very much the kind of boy I find attractive. Young, short, blonde with gorgeous blue eyes, it also doesn’t hurt that you have an above average intelligence. I could just eat you up,” he continued, the ending P coming out with a little pop.

John shuttered and gasped, hand slipping down to cover Sherlock’s on his leg. Stopping it from venturing any further. He knew that if the man discovered that he wasn’t even remotely hard, he might begin to suspect something. He was neither turned on nor shocked by the man’s actions. John was just thoroughly amused and disgusted at his depravity.

“Oh my god, really?” John asked, nibbling coyly on his lower lip. He scanned the restaurant quickly out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t seem anyone was paying them much attention. Slowly, with a nauseated knot rolling in his stomach, John slid his hand over Sherlock's thigh and let his fingertips trace the outline of the man’s throbbing cock. He heard Sherlock hiss rather loudly at the touch. Suddenly the man was up, throwing his coat on and tossing John his.

Leaning into whisper in John’s ear, Sherlock breathed, “We are going home and you’re going to finish what you started.” John wrapped his arms around the man’s lithe waist and tilted his head back, eyes wide. Sherlock pulled him in tight, letting his eagerness show with a press into John’s stomach.

Sherlock pulled him out the door and onto the sidewalk. The weather was still a touch on the cold side especially at night, though during the day it was warming up for spring. John had worn one of his ratter coats, so the cold was a bit much. Seeming to sense this, Sherlock pulled him closer, wrapping one side of his coat around John’s shoulders.

Just outside of 221 B, Sherlock came to a screeching halt. John looked up him with a confused look when he heard a growl emanate from the tall man. The other man saw John’s look and rolled his eyes. “My brother is here. Keep your mouth shut is that understood,” he said in a serious and severe voice. John swallowed hard and nodded. _Oh, so it’s a brother._

Sherlock stomped into his living room, hands on his hips and a glare firmly in place. “Get out,” he yelled at the tall ginger that currently resided in the chair across from Sherlock’s regular seating. “Brother, is that anyway to speak to family. After all I’ve done for you,” the other man retorted, examining his nails with a bored look. He was obviously older then Sherlock but by how much John couldn’t tell. He just stood near the door and watched the interaction, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. John seemed to have a knack for doing just that, if he wanted to, he could just fade into the background or stand out, which ever served his purpose best. However, like Sherlock, his brother was just as observant and shrewd, if not more so.

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce me to your new… _friend_?” the older man asked, spitting the last word out like it left a nasty taste in his mouth.

“No, now get out. I’m busy,” Sherlock growled with a sneer, stomping over to his chair and throwing himself into it. John rolled his eyes at the man-child, stepping forward he extended his hand to the ginger who was eyeing him with searing intensity. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes, I’m John” he said with the sweetest of smiles, letting his body collapse slightly in on itself. Hopefully he appeared small and childlike to the man, and not like the cold killer he knew he could be.

The hand that gripped his in a handshake was as cold and pale as those of Sherlock. If it had been any amount of moist, it would have reminded John of a dead fish. _Lovely._

“Lovely to make your acquaintance,” the ginger replied derisively, “And do you have a last name John?”

“Oh, right. Sorry. It’s Watson,” John told the man, looking down shyly at his shoes. He needed this man to think he was harmless and subservient. John remembered reading in that file awhile back that Sherlock's sibling was some how connected with the British government. Young though he was, he wasn’t fool enough to think that this man wouldn’t or couldn’t cause a multitude of problems for himself and Jim. Best to play it safe.

The man just gave him a nod and went back to glowering at his brother. There seemed to be some unspoken conversation going on between them. After about five minutes of this, the elder Mr. Holmes stood and made his way to the door. With a backward look at John and Sherlock, he took himself and his umbrella out of the flat. As soon as the outside door closed, Sherlock was out of his chair and in front of John in seconds. The tall man was just glaring at him. John wasn’t sure what had happened, but clearly, Sherlock was pissed about something, something _he_ did to be more precise.

He leaned over John, who had moved to the sofa sometime during the brothers nonverbal conversation. His long arms bracketed John’s head. He leaned his face a bit closer, eyes like ice. John wasn’t scared, there wasn’t much that could do that to him anymore, but he was concerned. A small voice in the back of his mind told him this wasn’t going to be pretty. Without warning, Sherlock let his hand fly. Right across John’s face. Shocked, John reached up and cupped his face with his hand, his eyes turned raging and his jaw clenched. If looks could kill as they say.

“What, am I not enough for you?” Sherlock hissed, his face livid.

“What the hell are you on about?” John replied, letting the anger he felt show. His eyes narrowed at the other man as he continued to try and rub the sting out of his face.

“All you fucking did was flirt that fat bastard,” Sherlock howled, his face not moving away from John’s. “YOU’RE MINE, not his, not anyone’s. I own you John Watson, don’t you ever forget that,” he seethed, reaching out and gripping John’s jaw severely. Since his hand was so big, it nearly covered all of John’s lower face, mouth included.

_Mission almost accomplished_. John’s anger dissipated quickly, though he kept the hurt and angry look on his face. He wanted desperately to let out the maniacal laugh that clogged his throat. John pushed off the sofa, pushed passed the fuming man and left without a word.  _No, I own YOU!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any errors I've missed. I'm posting this at 4 in the morning. also I apologize for the length (or lack there of ) of this chapter. I promise to do better next time :)
> 
> xoxo

John collapsed in his chair by the fire. The cab ride home seemed to have taken forever, but in the end it was nice to finely be home and looking at a truly attractive man. Pulling his drained body back out of the chair, John walked over the where Jim was sitting reading a book and insinuated himself between the other man’s knees. Leaning forward, he pressed his lips softly to Jim’s. Only it wasn’t met with the man’s lips as John was expecting, but his cheek. Jim had just turned away for his kiss! _What the hell?_

Pulling back, John stared at Jim with shock and hurt. “Bit late to be out and about, isn’t it?” Jim asked, not meeting his eyes. John took two steps back, and watched in horror, as Jim seemed to visibly relax in his absence. “You have lessons in the morning, see that you are here to attend them,” and with that, Jim got up and left the room. John’s heart thumped to beat the band. It felt like his world just tilted. Maybe the man was just upset that John hadn’t been home a lot lately and maybe he was feeling a little neglected. Yeah, that must be it. John decided right then to do something nice for Jim. Maybe breakfast in bed. He chuckled to himself at the thought about how cliché the idea was. Taking a deep breath, he plodded up the stairs to his room and promptly dropped into his bed, asleep before he hit the pillow.

The next morning found John dressed and rummaging through the fridge. He couldn’t really cook, but he was sure as hell going to try. Scrambled eggs were straight forward, plus he remembered how they were one of the first things Jim had cooked for him. Ok, so scrambled eggs and maybe toast would work, but there seemed to be something missing. John dove back into the fridge, pulling out a thick ham steak. This would be perfect for breakfast. With a smile on his face, he set to work.

By the time the tray was ready to take upstairs, john had successfully burned three pieces of toast, before he got two that were ok, scorched part of the eggs, and charbroiled the ham. Yep, breakfast was looking good. John rearranged everything on the tray at least three times before he was happy with the results. He carefully mounted the stairs and made his way to Jim’s room. Balancing the tray with one hand, John opened the door a crack and peeked in. Jim wasn’t there. Maybe he was up early in his office. Moving down the hall, John indeed found Jim working away in his office.

“Good morning,” John said in a chipper tone. He really hoped that Jim would see that John cared and was sorry for what ever he did wrong. He slid the tray into an empty space on the large desk. Stepping back, he waited for Jim to acknowledge him, his fingers twitching nervously at his sides. After several long minutes, John cleared his throat. “I brought you breakfast Daddy,” he ventured, using the cherished moniker in hopes it would eliciting a positive response.  Jim grunted a reply and ushered John out of the room with a wave of his hand. John left the office and made his way to the back to the kitchen, he had to get things cleaned before his tutor arrived.

John felt his phone vibrate in his pocket while he was elbow deep in dishwater. He dried his hands and retrieved the phone. The text message was from Sherlock. John couldn’t help but scoff at the man’s pathetic attempts to apologize. He decided he was going to draw out Sherlock’s apparent agony.   

**John, I’m sorry about last night – SH**

**Whatever – JW**

**Please John, I really am sorry. Being around my brother always sets me off. – SH**

**Honestly, he has always been jealous when I have something wonderful and he has nothing. And you are wonderful John –SH**

**Please answer me – SH**

 

John smiled impishly at the man’s desperation.

 

**You hit me. How is that showing me how “wonderful” I am? –JW**

**I am even more sorry for that; I promise I won’t ever do that again. Please believe me! –SH**

**I’ll think about it –JW**

His grin grew wider at the thought of making Sherlock suffer. Just then, he glanced up and noticed Jim staring at him. John’s smile slipped, just a little. “How was your breakfast?” he asked. Jim glared daggers at him. “Get that tray out of my office, cleaned and put away before you professor gets here,” he instructed John in a rather gruff manner. “Oh, and in the future, leaving the cooking to someone else. That food if you can call it that, tasted like shit,” Jim continued with a disgusted look. Then he was shrugging on his coat and leaving. Leaving John feeling crushed and slightly out of breathe. Ok, now he was sure his world was starting to fall apart. What had he done that was so terrible? John concluded that he had become a burden to Jim and that he no longer satisfied him sexually.

He planned to be home more for the next couple of days, because he was not quite ready to forgive Sherlock. Therefore, he would use this time to try to seduce Jim. He just desperately hoped it would pay off; he couldn’t stand to feel so distant from the man he had come to love.

The tutors came and went, and the day slipped into evening. John was restless. He had sent several texts to Jim, inquiring when he would be home and received no replies. Going upstairs, he decided to wait for Jim in the one place he wouldn’t be able to miss him; on the other man’s bed. He stripped down to his pants and stretched out on the bed. John was hoping to present himself as a tasty morsel for Jim to devour. But alas, it seemed exhaustion decided to rear it ugly head.

He was shaken awake sometime later. Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, John saw concern flicker across Jim’s face and was gone before his next breath, replace by steely ice. Had he imagined the man’s concern? “Go to bed,” Jim told him in a harsh voice. Yeah, he _had_ imagined it. John reluctantly slid off the bed and moved toward the door before coming to a stop in front of Jim. He leaned forward to kiss the other man, but just like before, he was rebuffed. John stepped back, avoiding looking at the other man, and scooped up his discarded clothes. He was half way out the door when he heard Jim speak. “ We meet Sherlock at the warehouse in three days. I expect you to be there and ready to do what you need to.” Jim’s tone was clipped so John just nodded his head and closed the door behind him. It was going to be a long three days.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize everyone for how short this chapter is, its just how it worked out this time. story line and all that.  
> Thanks for the support everyone, every kudo, hit, sub, bookmark and comment means the world to me. 
> 
> xoxo

John texted Sherlock early the next day. He knew he had limited time to end his game before the big day and today was as good a day as any.

**Ok. I thought about it and I really want things to be ok with us. –JW**

**So, you forgive me? –SH**

**Yeah, I miss you already. –JW**

**Oh, John. You have made me so happy –SH**

**Come over and I’ll make it up to you –SH**

**Ok. I’ll be there soon. Have to make sure dad isn’t home first –JW**

John added that last part purely for storyline. He knew Jim was home and wouldn’t give a shit what he did. Not lately, he hadn’t anyway. With a sigh, John got up off his bed, grabbed his jacket and left. The drive was killer. He knew he would have to put himself into some compromising positions to accomplish everything he had planned, but he still wasn’t looking forward to it. He discreetly checked to see if the little knife he usually kept on him was still concealed up the sleeve of his cable knit jumper. John didn’t think he would need it, but just in case he was glad he had it.

Pulling up to 221 B, John saw Sherlock standing on the stoop. He was without his coat so John knew he wasn’t getting ready to leave. He hopped out of the car and paid the cabbie. Walking over to the tall man, John found himself engulfed in a hug. Sherlock held him there for several minutes before releasing him. John tipped his head back to look at the man questioningly. The man lowered his face, grabbing John around the back of the neck, and devoured his mouth. He was stunned for a second before attempting to reciprocate. It was horrible, the man’s tongue stabbed into the deepest parts of John’s mouth, almost causing him to gag. It was just sheer will power that he didn’t.

John pushed back with a gasp. He took a minute trying to catch his breath. Sherlock just stood there with a smug expression, apparently gloating over the fact that he had taken his breath away. Pulling himself together, John stepped into Sherlock’s space again. “Can we go upstairs?” he asked shyly, licking his lips. Sherlock spun on his heels and pulled John up the stairs without another word. When they reached the top, Sherlock shut and locked the door before slamming John’s mall frame into the wall of the hallway that led to the man’s bedroom. His mouth again devoured by the tall man. John shut his eyes and envisioned kissing Jim’s warm lips; it was almost enough to make him completely forget whom he was really kissing. He missed the man desperately, and craved for the hands that now groped him to be those of his Daddy, his love. John lost himself in the waves of suppressed desire and longing. 

“Oh angel,” John heard Sherlock moan into his ear, his eyes were closed, head back against the wall letting the man do what he liked. However, when he heard that name in his ear, he froze; breathe stopping completely for a split second. His eyes were open now but all he could see were images of that night so long ago.

_“Oh angel, you’re so hot and wet,” cooed the man into John’s ear as he now pumped two fingers into the torn asshole._

The little boy that John thought he had locked away on _that_ day came forward with force; he wanted to crawl into a corner and cry. Sherlock seem to notice that his body had stiffened.  Pulling back, the man looked at him with concern, John just smiled up at him shrugging his shoulders. Sherlock returned the smile and pulled him toward the bedroom. Following along quietly, John forced the little boy in his head back into the lock cupboard where he kept the scared and weeping version of himself. This was neither the time nor the place.  Having successfully put away his past, John’s face settled into a look of excitement; for he really was excited. This is where the fun began.

Sherlock collapsed onto the bed pulling John down on top of him as he went. He straddles the lithe man, grinding into the other’s hard cock with his hips. Sherlock tossed his head back and moaned, gripping John’s hips tightly; dark curls splaying out on the pillow like a halo. He even managed to buck up against John a couple of times before he leaned over and captured the older man’s lips. John felt hands slide up his back and then descend to grope his firm ass. He moaned to cover the chuckle that threatened to come out. This man really had no fucking clue what kind of danger he was in.

John knew it was coming and he was ready for it. He continued coating Sherlock's neck and jaw with little kisses and licks, waiting for those long fingers to creep under his shirt. Ah, there they were. Cold hands shifted up under John’s jumper and vest, instantly encountering the scars from his assault. Scars this man had given him. He pulled back a little so he could see if there was any change in Sherlock’s expression. And indeed there was. Everything from concern to confusion and finally realization crossed the man’s face in mere seconds. John grinned devilishly when the man hit upon the “Ah, Ha” moment. He leaned forward just a little, his eyes never leaving Sherlock’s. Sliding his hand up to caress the man’s neck, John said in a low voice, “I’m going to kill you. You won’t know when or where or how, but I think you will know why.” Sherlock shifted back a little to get a better look at John, his face a study in blankness. Then without warning, it broke into a scornful smirk, “ Is that so?”

A belligerent smile bloomed bright on John’s face, eyes dark and cold. “Oh, yes.” The small blade he had hidden in his sleeve slid forward and caressed the skin of Sherlock’s neck, right over his artery. Pleasure pulsed through his body for the first time since he began this game, and it was all due to the smile slipping off the other man’s face, leaving something that strongly resembled fear in its wake. John peaked Sherlock on the cheek. “Ciao, Sherlock Holmes,” he whispered with a sneer and quickly got off the bed and left. Never once looking back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!
> 
> xoxo

The next two days passed quickly, thought at times they seemed to drag on endlessly. The tension that had been building between Jim and John grew even more in the wake of the current events. John found that he longed and dread anytime spent in Jim’s company. He longed for the man to pay attention to him, touch him, even make love to him, but he also dreaded it because it hurt so much when none of these things happened. All he got from Jim was an occasional cross word and always a cold shoulder. The man had even gone so far as to refuse to share meals with John. In the end, John would just trudge up to his room and lock himself away. The more Jim pulled away from him, the more John knew he was in love with the mad bastard; no matter how he acted.

John spent the time going to the range with Sebastian for extra practice; he was also learning to use weapons other then guns and rifles so some of the time was used for that too. He went swimming in the communal pool and worked out. On top of his studies, there wasn’t much else to do.

The big day arrived with rain, which wasn’t uncommon for London but seemed especially fitting. The grey wet sky did nothing to settle neither John’s nerves nor his broken heart. John sat on his side of the car watching the rain slide down the outside of the window in fat droplets, reminding him of the tears that had so often burned his eyes. It was late evening when they had left for their meeting but the day seemed to have remained the same lightness throughout, stormy; just like he felt. He saw that Jim was also preoccupied with something outside his window. The space between them was only a few inches but to John it felt like miles. His chest physically ached when he thought about how just a few months before he would have been welcome and encouraged to slide closer and curl up into Jim’s warm side. Maybe after all this was finished… No, he couldn’t let himself go there, not now. He had to focus on what needed to be done and on his grand reveal to Sherlock, as Jim’s what? Ward? Acquaintance? Charity case?

John shook his head to try to clear this line of thinking. If he never did anything else in his life, he would spend it proving that he was worthy of Jim. He set his jaw, determined that this was definitely a long-term goal. John risked a glance at Jim out of the corner of his eye, immediately realizing that the man was staring at him through his reflection. He saw a glimmer of something that resembled hurt, confusion and longing only to be replaced a fraction later with steel, distain and anger. What the bloody hell was going on? Had he really just seen that? John was confident that he had, but what in the world did Jim have to be confused about and even more so what did he have to be hurt over? John knew he hadn’t done anything to cause it, he didn’t think so anyway. John sighed and went back to watching the rain form patterns on his window.

The drive to the warehouse took about an hour and a half, and it was spent in absolute silence. That is until they were five minutes away, then Jim spoke for the first time in days.

“When we get in there, I want you to stay back with Sebastian until I call for you. Do you understand?” Jim said in an authoritative voice, the same one John had heard him use with his “employees” over the phone. John nodded his head in reply.

“I want this over as quickly as possible, so make sure you do exactly as your told,” the man continued not even deigning to look at John. John hung his head and whispered, “Yes Sir.”

The warehouse came into sight and the familiar calm that came with a burst of adrenalin swept over John like a comfortable jumper. He loved this feeling, was addicted to it if he was honest with himself. Better that than drugs he supposed. John checked that his gun was secure in its holster at the small of his back; Seb had gifted him a sleek holster the fit just right on the inside of his trousers waist band. Finding that it was indeed there seemed to help ease his nerves a little; if there was one thing that he was confident in, it was his ability to shoot true. John leaned back in the seat and waited for the driver to park the car.

The warehouse was a two-story brick structure. Each level had multi-paneled windows placed every few feet allowing natural light to illuminate the building whenever the sun decided to shine. Now, though, electric lights lit the place up, giving a false sense of welcome and warmth in the dreary rain. However, what waited inside was anything but. When the car stopped, John pulled his coat closed and stepped out, waiting for Jim to come around to his side of the car as it was the closest to the building’s door. With a heavy heart, he followed Jim into the warehouse.

From the shadows of a small hallway, John saw that Jim had set the room up to resemble the one he had been found in. his hands clenched in and out of fists, working out the panic that was trying to rear its ugly head. That’s when he heard the all too familiar baritone and his panic turned to anger. Pure, white-hot anger. He waited, hidden, just as he had been instructed and watched Jim sashay over to where Sherlock was standing. Thanks to the acoustics of the room, John didn’t have to strain to hear what was being said.

“Sherly,” Jim called brightly, though it seemed that his voice was missing something.

John wished he could see the man’s face.

“Well, it looks like you kept up your end of the deal,” Sherlock replied rather reluctantly. John could tell that the bored look on his face was only a front, and that the man was actually excited about the evenings gathering. _Disgusting_. “Only thing left is the main attraction,” the man continued with a haughty smirk. He looked like he was waiting for this to be the moment where Jim would fail.

Fortunately, Jim never fails; at least that’s what John thought. He always thought Jim was perfect, and brilliant and amazing. “Oh, I made sure that the main attraction would be in attendance,” he heard Jim reply. Again, he noticed something was off with the man, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure it out.

“Consider this a priceless gift, Sherly,” Jim continued, “Come along, Johnny.” This was his moment to make Jim proud, to show his loyalty. Stepping out of the shadows with a vicious grin, John walked confidently to stand at Jim’s side; gun hanging firm but relaxed at his side.

“YOU,” Sherlock gasped, eyes wide. “What the hell, John?”

John’s grin widened as the puzzle pieces began to click into place for the tall man. Oh the look of shock turning to furious ice was one of the most exhilarating thing john had ever seen. In addition, if he was not mistaken there was a touch of panic behind the man’s ever changing jeweled eyes.  John turned to look at Jim, hoping the man was sharing his excitement. But what he saw made his heart stop. Jim’s eyes were dead looking, his jaw clenched and face blank.

Without so much as a glance, Jim turned away and walked toward the exit. “Take good care of him Sherlock,” he called over his shoulder.

John’s heart fell out of his chest and he started to shake as he began to understand that Jim was leaving him. Not just leaving him there with Sherlock but actually, fully leaving him. Forever. “JIM, NO,” he cried out after the man. He life was trying to leave and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to try to keep it from going. He couldn’t take the fear and panic that now coursed through him and so he collapsed to his knees, not even noticing the sickening crack that came from his knees meeting the concrete floor.

“No, please,” John begged, forehead meeting the floor as he curled into himself. His voice was broken and small. He felt the tears that had been building up for the past few weeks finally break their dam and flood his face. “Daddy, Please,” he howled like a dying animal. he heard shuffling around him, but he couldn’t bring himself to find out what it was.

“No, Johnny,” came a hard voice, “You made this choice the minute you decided you needed something more than me.”


	11. Chapter 11

John’s head snapped up, eyes red and puffy, tears refusing to stop flowing. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He most certainly HADN’T needed anything more than Jim. “I haven’t, I, I don’t…didn’t,” he stammered through his tears. He knew he likely looked a mess but he didn’t care, not when the best thing to happen to him was about to disappear. “I’ve never needed anything but you, ever. Please believe me Daddy,” John begged, hiccuping through uncontrollable sobs.

Jim looked down at John with cold unrelenting eyes and shook his head. “I don’t believe you Johnny. I saw the videos and I know what I saw,” he said plainly, betraying nothing in his voice. “That kiss at his front door didn’t look like it was nothing. I know you’ve been on cases with him and out to dinner.” 

John slowly shook his head in denial, but Jim held up his hand to stop him. “All you had to do was tell me you needed more from me and I would have given it to you,” the man told him, eyes softening minutely. “I loved you so much,” he whispered, turning away again, but not moving. Hearing “loved” instead of “love” broke John even more. A growl emanated from his chest and he slammed his fists against the cold floor. “I did it for you…because of you,” John shouted but let his voice fade to a harsh whisper. Energy completely sapped, he hung his head again

“What do you mean, you did it for me,” John heard Jim snarl angrily, “How is kissing him for _me_? How is spending time with him for _me_? How is…loving him for _me_? John had had enough; sitting back on his haunches, he glared tired daggers at the man. John quaked like a leaf in a fall breeze, adrenalin over running his system.

“First and foremost James Moriarty, I am not nor will I ever be in love with that…that sick fuck. As for doing those other things, I did them for you. You told me I had potential, that I was strong and smart, and that I was your perfect partner. Remember that?” John spat from his place on the floor. “I know how much you value a good _game._ I wanted to show you that I could play one just as well as you can, to prove to you that I can be your equal. I wanted to mess with his head so that when this time came, it would be so much more fulfilling.” At this point, he was spent; unable to do more then slouch where he sat. It was now time for Jim to decide whether he would believe him or not. John felt cold and empty. Whatever the out come would be, he would never stop loving this beautiful idiot. Looking up into those melted dark chocolate eyes, John pulled out the leather collar he kept in his pocket to remind him of Jim, and held it up to the man as an offering. “Please Daddy.”

 “John,” Jim breathing sounding so very unsure. Before he could continue, there came a scoff from the center of the room. “Sentiment,” Sherlock sneered, “a chemical defect found on the loosing side.” John knew from spending time with the man that a look of pure disgust had settled over the tall man’s features. Without even taking his eyes off Jim, he pulled his gun, aimed and fired. The shrieks of pain that followed were earsplitting. Jim looked taken aback. John just gave him a wobbly, wet smile.

Jim stepped forward and leaned down to John, taking his face in his hands. “Oh baby, what have I done,” the man sounded lost and scared. Jim wasn’t supposed to be scared. John looked at him and smiled even brighter, fresh tears making an appearance, but this time they were tears of joy. “You haven’t done anything daddy,” he told Jim in a voice just loud enough to be heard over the screams of pain, “I love you.” At that, Jim swept him up into his arms and held him tight. “I’m so sorry I hurt you, baby. I misunderstood what was going on. Please forgive me,” the man whispered in John’s ear, sending shivers down his spine.

“It’s ok, Daddy. We’ll fix this, US,” John told him only lifting his head from Jim’s shoulder enough to be heard, “Won’t we?” John was suddenly unsure about it. Leaning back, he looked up at Jim. The man smiled the most beautiful, sincere smile John had ever seen. “Yes, love. We most certainly will,” John let out a sigh of relief at Jim’s promise. “But right now we have a business meeting,” Jim told him, his radiant smile turning evil. John replied with a wicked grin of his own and stepped away from Jim to face the writhing Sherlock. Before he could get two steps away, Jim pulled him back, pressing him tight to his chest. “Before we start, there is one more thing that needs to be done,” he growled in John’s ear. Removing the leather collar that still dangled from John’s hand, Jim placed it gently around his neck and locked it into place. John felt him nip at the shell of his ear, a promise of what was to come when they got home. “MINE,” he said in a low grating voice.

John and Jim stepped apart again and turned to Sherlock. The man had quieted his wailing but was now moaning in pain. “He’s all yours love,” Jim told John cheerily, moving off to the side to sit on an old crate and watch. John nodded his head eagerly.

Stepping forward, John looked down at the man that now lay at his feet. He cocked his head and studied the bloody mess that had been the tall man’s right knee. “We should probably even that out for you,” he said rather conversationally. Aiming his pistol, he shattered the left kneecap as well. John flinched back with a little squeaked giggle at the howl that tore its way out of Sherlock’s throat. John glanced over at Jim, manic delight lighting his face. Jim nodded his approval, pride showing bright in his eyes.

John turned around and eyed a particularly dark corner of the room. After a few seconds, he smiled and called out. “Seb, would you mind helping me.” The big man stepped out of the shadows with a smile. “Good work,” Seb rumbled as he sauntered over to John and the fallen man. “What you need help with kid,” he asked fondly. “Would you help me strip him and get him into a chair. I may need help tying him to it to hold him still but we’ll see,” John replied smiling but authoritative.

Sherlock was unceremoniously stripped and tossed into a chair amid a torrent of threats, deductions and questions. Everyone in the room ignored the man and eventually he left off all together. When Seb had secured the man to the chair, with his hands in front of course, John stepped up to begin working on him. He tilted his head to the side, licked his lips and considered where he wanted to start first. There _were_ so many options.

Finally, John straightened and nodded his head, deciding exactly where he wanted to start. John turned to Jim when he heard the man clear his throat. With a smile, he handed John a cigar cutter. “Thank you,” John said, kissing him on the cheek when he went to retrieve it. Jim just smiled at John and gave him a little chuckle. Walking over to the bound man, John insinuated himself between the man’s legs. He looked paler then normal, likely from the blood loss though it wasn’t enough to put him in danger of bleeding out and dying. He reached down and slid one of the pale digits into the cutter, all the way to the second knuckle, and with a quick and powerful squeeze, John severed the finger completely. He leaned back a little and admired his work. It wasn’t as hard as he had thought it might be. The only thing that was slightly annoying was the screaming. _Dull._

All ten fingers soon littered the floor around the chair Sherlock was tied to. John stepped back and brushed at the blood that now covered his jeans and jumper. Finally, he gave them up as a lost cause. “What…what was the point…point of that,” Sherlock stammered out through clenched teeth, his voice wobbling. “Oh, that’s so you never touch another boy, ever again,” John told him matter-of-factly. The man grunted, though John wasn’t sure if it was in reply or because of the pain.

“Seb, lets move him to the bed,” John instructed. Sherlock whimpered when the brute of a man lifted him out of the chair and tossed him on the bed. Walking to one side, John took one of the loose ropes that had tide Sherlock to the chair and bound the man’s wrist with it. He told Sebastian to do the same on the other side. Together they situated Sherlock on his stomach, wrists tide to the bedposts and ass exposed to the air. The image the tall man created was very similar to that of John when Jim had first found him. John smiled; revenge really was a dish best served cold.

He made his way over to Jim yet again and picked up the razor whip that had been laid out. John wasn’t sure where all these things were coming from but he wasn’t going to complain. “You know, it would be so easy just to shoot you between the eyes like I did that man in the alley. However, I want you to feel what I felt when you decided that I was less then trash to be used and tossed away at your convenience,” John said in a clipped tone, voice strong and commanding. Leaning in close, John cooed, “ It’s ok angel, I know you like this, don’t you?”

The whip landed hard across the pale back. Repeatedly it fell, leaving line after line of torn bloodied skin. Sherlock screamed and even begged, but it all fell on closed ears and hard hearts. The man eventually grew still and quiet.  John had to pause every now and again to rest his arm as well as to make sure that the man on the bed was still breathing; he wanted him scared not dead. When he decided that the man’s back was sufficiently covered, he pulled out his little knife and climbed onto the bed. Straddling Sherlock’s thighs, John ran his hand over the soft skin on the other’s ass. A perfect canvas for a message. With that, he set to work carving the initials, JM into the left cheek and JW into the right one. _Perfect_.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok everyone, this is the last chapter. I apologize if it seemed to end abruptly, but I couldn't seem to make it go forward anymore. If anyone IS interested enough in this series, I will definitely consider adding another part to this, just message me or leave a comment and let me know. As always all of your support is extremely appreciated.   
> Thank you for helping me get this far. 
> 
> lots of love and keep your eyes open for other stories, there are several in the works.
> 
> xoxo

John popped off the bed and held out his hand. “Do either of you have a cigarette lighter?” Sebastian stepped forward and placed a butane torch lighter in his palm. “What’s your plan kid?” he asked curiously. “You’ll see,” John said with a lopsided grin. Walking over to the bed, he checked to make sure the man on it was definitely unconscious. Nudging his jaw open, John snagged the man’s tongue with his fingers and pulled it past his lips. As soon as it was out far enough, he flicked the lighter on and placed the blue flame to the tender skin. _No more deductions or insults for you_. The smell that come from the boiling melting tissue was nauseating, but no one in the room mentioned it or seemed to mind.

When the muscle was thoroughly seared and shriveled, John stepped back and handed the light to its owner. “All done,” he said with a sigh, turning toward Jim. Jim walked over to him and pulled him into a tight embrace. It felt so wonderful to be in his arms. “You did a magnificent job, baby,” Jim whispered in his ear, rubbing small circles into John’s back and shoulders. “I am so proud of you.” John looked up at him, tears glistening in his blue eyes. “Take me home Daddy, please?”

Jim nodded at Sebastian and then ushered John out the door and into the car. Sliding in, he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to curl up next to the older man. They had cleared the air between them and seemed to now understand each other, but John still wasn’t sure. So he stayed in his seat, waiting.

Jim looked over at him with a touch of hurt and regret in his eyes. “I’m so sorry I hurt you John and…and I understand if you never want me to touch you again. I know you gave me your collar, but that doesn’t mean I have to touch you. I just want you to know that,” he paused for a moment, swallowing hard, “I want you to know that no matter what happens between us, I have and always will love you.” John couldn’t stand it a minute longer. He hurled himself at the other man, straddling his lap and holding him as tight as he was able. “I love you too. I want you to touch me, I always want you to touch me,” John declared passionately. Jim grabbed his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. Oh, how John had missed this man’s soft tender kisses, his warm lips and gentle hands. 

Wrapping his arms around the older man’s neck, John ground his hips into the hips under him. Jim groaned and gripped his waist hard. He continued to rock into Jim, throwing his head back, moans flowing from his lip, as the coil in his gut wound tighter and tighter. God, it had been too long. “Oh god daddy, please,” John groaned, mouth open, eyes shut. He didn’t know what he was begging for just that he needed it, _him._

“Yes baby, take what you need,” Jim growled, eyes wild and dark. He bucked up against John as he ground forward. The friction on his straining cock from his jeans was almost painful, but he couldn’t stop. He needed to cum so bad and the sight of Jim addled with lust and the metallic tang of drying blood that filled the air just added to the heat. Winding his fingers into Jim’s dark hair, John gave one last thrust and came with a shout, gripping hard at the hair tangled in his fingers. Jim came with a groan moments after. Both of them lay panting against each other, not letting the other loose from their embrace.

They stayed like that until they returned home. John climbed off Jim, got out of the car and quickly went into the house. It wouldn’t do for someone to see him in all his bloody glory. He and Jim stripped out of their clothes and made their way to the shower. The hot water felt wonderful as it slid over his sweaty tense muscles. Jim washed him gently, to which John insisted on returning the favor. They stayed under the spray until the water started to go cold.

After drying and dressing in pajamas, John stepped out of the bathroom and stood waiting in the hall. Would Jim allow him to sleep in the man’s bed? He shouldn’t have worried, because as soon as Jim stepped out, he grabbed John and hauled him to his bedroom. They curled around each other under the duvet, John buried in Jim’s broad chest, feeling the last of the adrenalin fade leaving him weak with exhaustion, and Jim wrapped possessively and protectively around him. He felt so safe and loved like this. John wanted this feeling to last forever. “What will happen to him?” he asked into the man’s chest. Jim chuckled and combed his fingers through John’s slightly damp hair. “Oh, his brother got an anonymous tip,” he said softly, “don’t worry love, he’ll be found.” John felt the man go a little tense even with his soft reassuring words. He looked up in to those dark eyes and saw concern and worry. Jim just looked back, licking his lips nervously.

“After all that, you care about him,” Jim said in a low voice, his breathing coming a little faster than normal. John saw that the man was struggling with the idea that he might really have feelings for the one they had left bleeding in the warehouse. He took his love’s face in his hands and kissed him solidly, letting his tongue trace the outline of the other’s moist lips.

“No, I just want to make sure he’s around for when I get bored,” John replied with a small huffed laugh, “ordinary people are so boring, aren’t they daddy, plus I need someone to practice my skills on. I need to be as clever as you are.” He batted his blond lashes and Jim chuckled and visibly relaxed. “You really are just as insane and twisted as I am, aren’t you,” he said with a grin. “Of course I am, I learned from the best after all,” John answered with a giggle. Eyes bright, he took in the beautiful pale man before him, and his heart throbbed almost painfully as it expanded and filled with all the love and admiration he felt.

 Jim ran the tips of his fingers over John’s face, chest and arms making him feel like he was the most precious thing in the world. John remembered that Jim had told Sherlock that he was a “priceless gift”, so maybe feeling precious wasn’t so far off the mark.

“How will I ever show you how much I love you and how much you mean to me?” Jim asked, trailing his fingers over the edges of John’s collar.

John shivered at the touch. “Marry me,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “When I’m old enough, marry me. Give me your last name. John Hamish Moriarty doesn’t have too bad of ring to it.”  John glanced at his ring finger and could easily imagine a band on it letting the world know he was owned and loved. Just like his collar said.

Jim pulled him close. “Would you really want to be tied to me like that?” he asked, though he seemed to be talking more to himself than to John. John just nodded his head and closed his eyes; the long day was beginning to catch up with him and pull him down into slumber.

“Always and forever, Daddy,” he mumbled and slipped into the darkness of sleep.


End file.
